


Promises To Keep

by respoftw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag S01E12 The Defiant One, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9911528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: John and Rodney fly the repaired jumper back to Atlantis





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amycooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amycooper/gifts).



> Based on [this post](http://deathmunchkin-dimentor.tumblr.com/post/157476906066/johns-promise) on tumblr

Fixing the jumper had given Rodney something to do with his hands but now that it was done he couldn’t help but notice that they’d started to shake.  He wished he could blame the tremor on hypoglycemia but the three power bars and the macaroni cheese MRE that he’d wolfed down an hour earlier still sat heavily in his stomach.

He knew the real reason for his shaking hands and he wasn’t ready to think about it.   _Not yet_.

(Jesus, how old had Gall been anyway?  Before the Wraith got done with him.  Rodney would be surprised if he’d seen his 30th birthday. He didn’t know why that made it so much more tragic.  Would his hands be shaking less if Gall had been 31, or 33?)

Rodney shook his hands out, hoping it looked like nothing more than someone trying to get the circulation going in their fingers.

(He tried not think about rubbing the feeling back into Brendan’s hands, of how they felt cold and lifeless in his hand as if he were already dead.  Maybe he already was.  Maybe Rodney had just refused to admit it.)

John wandered over, looking better than anyone who had just been shot ( _don’t_ ) had the right to look.  

“You fix it?” John nodded his head in the direction of the waiting jumper.  

Rodney nodded, tucking his hands under his armpits in an effort to hide the shaking.  That might have been a smoother move if they weren’t in the middle of a baking hot desert but John didn’t comment, just nodded in acknowledgement.

“Markham’s gonna fly the other jumper back with Teyla and Ford.  You might want to join them.”

Rodney frowned.  “What about you?  Fifteen hours is a long time to fly solo and you were shot earlier today, in case you had forgotten.”

“Rodney, I’ll be _fine_.”

“What if you’re not?”  Rodney pushed out his chin stubbornly.  “What if you start to feel worse, or pass out, or - -”

“Rodney,” John interrupted forcefully.  “I’m flying Gall and Abrams’ bodies home.  You don’t need to be in there with them.  None of you do.”

Rodney’s mouth snapped shut, just for a second, before he mentally righted himself and straightened up, drawing himself to his full height which was only an inch or two shorter than John.  “I took them on this mission,” he told John.  “I’m taking them back.” 

John’s head tilted, his eyes unreadable behind their sunglasses.  Rodney waited, almost sure that John was going to pull rank - like that would work on him - but eventually, John nodded.  “Gear up,” he said, pressing a hand gently on Rodney’s shoulder.  “Wheels up in ten.”

* * *

If Rodney thought his hands had been shaking badly before, it was nothing compared to how they were shaking now.  The doors to the rear compartment were closed but they didn’t block out the knowledge of what - who - was back there.

Rodney fervently hoped that his hands would stop shaking before it was his turn to take the controls, never mind that he didn’t actually have to use his hands to pilot the ‘jumper.  

“You’re pretty quiet there, buddy,” John looked over at him curiously.  “You ok?”

“Peachy keen,” Rodney answered, sarcasm dripping from his voice.  

John made a face that showed he knew how his stupid his question had been.  “Yeah.  Well, day’s almost over.”  He stretched his arms out, his back making popping noises that made Rodney wince.  “That was some not bad shooting back on planet,” he said.  “We’ll make a marksman out of you yet.”

(Oh God, don’t think about the noise, or the smell of blood, the pink flecks of matter, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think abou- -)

“--ODNEY!” 

Rodney snapped back to awareness to see John’s concerned face in front of him, John’s hands wrapped around his upper arm, squeezing him, anchoring him.  

“Major,” he stammered, “I, ah, I was..”

“I know what you were doing,” John said quietly.  “I’m sorry you had to see it happen.”

Rodney shook his head.  “I didn’t.  He, uh, he pulled the trigger when my back was turned.  If I had seen, I would have - - I would have - -”

“There wasn’t anything you could have done,” John said quietly.  “Thinking otherwise will just make you go insane.”

“Speaking from experience, Major?” 

John grimaced.  It was answer enough.

Rodney waved him off, assuring him that he was back in the land of the living and John moved back to the pilot's seat warily.

They were both silent for a long time, each staring out the front screen at the empty blackness surrounding them.  Twelve long hours to go.

“I was never around guns until I started working for the US government.”  Rodney was surprised to hear his own voice speak out into the silence but something about John made him feel safe.  Something about John had made him feel safe since that first moment of terror when he thought they were all going to drown. “But, since then, I’ve been around them almost every day of my life.  Even if it was just seeing them in the corridors or just knowing that they were in the same building.”

John hummed in acknowledgement of Rodney’s words, seeming to understand that Rodney needed to get this out without interruptions.

“I thought I knew what they were,” he continued.  “They were a weapon.  Against the Goa’uld, the terrorists, the Wraith, the Genii...I never thought of them as a way out.  You,” Rodney breathed deeply, “you told me to stick a gun in his hand and I never thought twice about it.  It genuinely never occurred to me that he would use it on himself.  That’s...that’s not what they’re supposed to be for.”

John’s breath hitched slightly and Rodney blinked.  “I didn’t mean that you made me do it,” he quickly rushed to assure John that he wasn’t blaming him.  “I gave him the gun and you had no idea what he would do any more than I did and - - “

“I knew it was a possibility,” John interrupted quietly.  “I mean, I never consciously believed that he would...but I’ve seen it happen.  Sometimes the pain and the...sometimes people choose to end it on its own terms.”

Rodney paled.  “No,” he snapped.  

“No, what?” John looked at him, confused.

Rodney swallowed thickly.  “Promise me you’ll never do that,” he said.  “Promise me that you would never even think about - -”

“I promise, Rodney.”  

John’s hand twitched, an aborted attempt to reach out and touch him.  Rodney saw it and reached out for John instead, taking his hand across the console and squeezing.

“Promise me that you’ll never leave me,” he asked quietly.

John squeezed back.  “I would never leave you behind.  Not if I could help it.”

It wasn’t quite the promise Rodney hoped for, but it was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Belated Birthday to cerulean_beekeper who asked me for this fic. I'm sorry I couldn't get it done for you yesterday but, hey, this way you get something the day after your birthday! :)


End file.
